"Jay, he's coming this way!" she protested. "He'll see the door ajar—"
He interrupted. "Yes. I want him to. Do as I say."
Her face white in the dusk, she got down behind the counter, back in the middle of the store.
Wales crept swiftly to the front of the store, whipped behind the counter there, and crouched down.
Now, with the door ajar, he could hear the pudgy man coming along the sidewalk. Then he saw him, his heavy, doughy face turning alertly from side to side as he came along.
The man stopped and the tommy-gun in his hands came up fast. He had seen the hardware-store door was a little open.
With the gun held high, the pudgy man came slowly to the door. His foot kicked it wide open. He peered into the dimness of the store, poised on his feet like a dancer, ready to turn instantly.
Wales' fingers closed on a little carton of hinges, under the counter. He suddenly hurled the little box toward the other side of the store. It struck a display of tinware with a tremendous clatter.
The pudgy man whirled toward that direction, in a flash.
With a movement as swift, Wales darted out in the same moment and jammed his pistol into the pudgy man's back.